Blissful Wishing
by Hitsuiro Issa
Summary: She thinks she's hallucinating. Perhaps she is. A YuukoxClow Fic. My first ever! xD Rated M for slight maturity. Go figure.


It is rather curious that she chose to read one of his books that day, with the moon completely hidden away behind the clouds, and the soft pitter-patter of rain enveloping the usually magnificent view of her yard. It is quite dark, except with the lamps set burning, and cold. She despises the cold, but he relishes it. The soft fabric of her kimono, baring her angelic skin, is obviously not enough to keep her from the cold.

But he enjoys it. Yes, he had always been rather peculiar- he is the greatest wizard of all time, after all. What she has before her, though, is not the wizard himself, but probably a figment of her imagination, or the epitaph of her wishful thinking- she is not sure- she wishes It so, but she dares not, for the price may be too great- and how surprised is she, and how depressed, of that fact.

But she is happy; she is comfortable with his presence, no matter how imaginary or ethereal he is. She doubts he is ethereal in the form, but she had not tried to touch him, and she decides it best that she would not. For the time being.

She tilts her head to the side, one side of her faced balanced by her palm, and her whole figure propped up with pillows. It is past 1 am, but she does not feel sleepy. She fears that her slumber would dismiss his temporary presence- and with the on going rain and the loneliness, it is not a very good idea.

So she passes time. He does not speak to her, just sitting there in his corner, watching the rain. He does not even look. But she knows he's just waiting, waiting for the right moment. Somehow, despite his unpredictability, she's still a witch, and he's still just an illusion of the man she desires, she knows.

Yet, as much as she is comforted by him, she is nervous. Quite. Perhaps not nervous, but somehow she cannot concentrate on the texts she is supposed to read. At first it had kept her awake, but now she longs to do something else- or she will fall asleep, and he would disappear.

She did not like that lonely thought, more the less did she want to entertain it.

And so she stirs away from the book, leaving it where it is, and crawls towards his figure on all fours. She still thinks he is an illusion. She did not let herself hope that he is actually there, so she does not say anything but the want is there anyway.

They see eye to eye immediately once she had reached him, and perhaps hours- or days, even- have passed with only their silence and blissful longing. She knows there is something in his eyes, bright ebony behind the glass, and for a moment she hesitates. She fears he is real.

Ironically, no matter how much she wanted him to be there, she does not want to risk anything. She has long given time and space to be with him during his borrowed time, but now, it did not seem worth it.

She is taken by surprise as he shifts his weight to his left, resting a warm hand upon her cheek, stroking the side of her face with such...realism. Oh gods, it is enough to make her cry. She wants to say something, but no words could be said. He still does not exist. She does not want him to.

The hand slithers down to her neck, then her nape, then down the ebony silk strands she prides as her hair. They are far too perfect for such a name, for such a hand (had she not given him the right? No no, she thinks, he does not have the right), but he slides his finger between the perfect strands nevertheless, as soft as lilies upon water.

She purrs as he does this (involuntarily, she would later protest), making a movement to stroke her lover's face, but just as softly- and before she could react- he pulls her to him, wrapping his long arm around her tiny waist. Her hands are then lost beneath the meters of silk linen and dark strands pooling around her feet, and he takes advantage of her loss with his lips, as soft as wings, caressing her luscious own. He does not kiss her though, only teasing, only tormenting her, with their close proximity, leaving her with want. She cannot raise her hands, she does not know why- but why did it matter, she is too engrossed with his sensuous lips trailing her jaw, her neck, awakening within her a soft moan.

She backs into the wall as he towers over her, carrying on with his magic. She stifles a sound as he passed over a particular sensitive spot, and suddenly his hands are at work too, flitting over her warm skin, snaking beneath her clothes. She gasps at the sudden chill stroking her thigh, rising and falling, tracing the skin between her legs, and she thinks she is going insane. Still he does not press his lips. He wants her to suffer at this lack of body contact, despite how she got many.

He continues a little higher, and the moment his fingers press against the wet fabric of her panties, the winds blows the lamps out, and they are stuck in the darkness. But that doesn't stop his insistent penetration, and she gasps as he slips the fingers beneath, sliding over her womanhood.

Thousands of senses wash over her in an instant, and their dreams sparkled like little lights around his face. She finds her hands, they are positioned beside both sides of her head but she decides against moving it. His fingers are working harder still, pressing in then drawing back, and she moans in frustration. Why tease her like this...?

She sees the white of his teeth as he grins, and he enters his fingers. She lets out the sounds vibrating from her neck, grits her teeth as he leans in to bury his face by her ear, and the subtle hint of pain disappears as ecstasy floods in, enough to make her scream, producing tears in her eyes, and she does not want to stop, no, he's doing it fast...but the white sparkles are flashing, she thinks they are sirens, and where's the noise coming from?

Overwhelmed, she passes out.

And awakes in the bathing sun.

"Are you alright, Miss Yuuko?"

It's her employer, the young Watanuki, bending over her. She must look terrible. Her face is bathed with sweat, her body incredibly warm, and her breathing is hard, tired. Could it possibly be all a dream? A blissful wish that sprouted from the depths of her mind, haunting her consciousness?

She pulls herself up, wiping the moisture from her brow. The kimono is all over the place, it seems. Her hair is as messed up as well. As expected, there is no trace of the man.

"I'm alright. I fell asleep at the wrong place, that's all."

Watanuki looks at her with skepticism, but he leaves to make tea (the boy is so thoughtful, so disciplined. He does whatever he's told and by instinct most of the time, she smiles to herself).

All the while though, as she held a small cup between her palms, her thoughts never left the man torturing her in her dreams, even as she sipped at the tea Watanuki had prepared for her. She does not say anything at all, only looking out at the sun, reliving the events that had supposedly taken place earlier that morning, with the moon hidden away and the rain thundering down; she looks out, smiles, and hopes it would rain again.

End.

A/N: Sucky, I know. My attempt at making a Yuuko/Clow fic. In fact, it's my first ever xxxHolic fic! Hooray! *confetti* Reviews will be much thanked. I feel so desperate. xD I should die now. OH YEAH.


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